Save the last dance for me
by ScarletRedfox
Summary: "They didn't ignore the feeling of completion as images of their past drifted through their last conscious thoughts as they smiled and laughed and enjoyed their last dance together. Their last dance among the living. But their first dance among the dead." They knew they didn't have much time left, but even then, they would make it count. Their last dance.


**_A/N:_** Hello everyone! :) For those who haven't read any of my stories yet, please call me Redfox! :) I got inspired to write this short piece after thinking what I imagined when I came up with the title "Save the last dance for me", so this came out.

 **Rating: T (for implied death at the end)**

 **Pairing: Royai (Roy & Riza)**

Hope you all enjoy it and that the read wasn't a waste! :)

 ** _Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist (Brotherhood) or any of its characters!_**

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 ** _Save the last dance for me_**

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 _Dancing is the last word in life. In dancing one draws nearer to oneself. –Jean Dubuffet_

She looked beautiful.

For once, he felt breathless.

Not from pain or terror or fear or even from his own alchemy.

He felt breathless from the sheer beauty she radiated. She radiated a subtle shyness that indicated she wasn't used to being in the center of attention, but that was a lie.

She had been the center of his whole world since he started falling for her and none of it ever changed since they got married. He still feared for his life every now and then when she would stroll into his office and make sure he was doing his duties as the newly appointed Führer.

But that was a part of them being a team after all, she was his calm. The calm before the storm of his flames. But she was also the raging storm he sometimes wasn't, the cold, ruthless storm that threatened to overrun their enemies.

But he saw none of that when he gazed at her. None of the wars they've fought in, none of the pain they experienced all their lives, not the loss and suffering they were forced to experience, none of it.

When he looked at her, all he saw was peace. All he felt was complete.

He smiled when she gracefully walked over to him, a single tear sliding down the soft expanse of her cheek.

He wiped it away, letting his hand linger just a bit longer on the side of her face to offer her some comfort before he drew it away and extended his other hand in silent invitation.

For their dance.

Their last dance.

And suddenly, the hand of soft, unblemished young skin turned to a wrinkled one, deep lines made from age.

Roy looked up at her beautiful face, at her smiling face that lost none of its beauty with advanced age, the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth more pronounced.

He could feel his strength waning, threatening to topple them both over, but he pushed on, for this, this meeting of their hands and the joining of the music and their feet sliding across the floor, was their last.

He leaned in to whisper softly in her ear, hoping she could hear his low whisper, "Have I ever told you how beautiful you look?"

There was a faint, raspy giggle and her hand rested gently on his shoulder, "All the time, dear," he smiled, gently leading them through the dance they danced so many times, so many years ago.

Things were different now, their kids were grown, their friends enjoying a quiet, peaceful but fulfilling life without the war.

It was just them now.

Roy felt she missed a step, he moved to hold her shaking weight, "Are you alright?" concern washed over him like a great tidal wave and he felt his own bones shaking.

Riza offered a weak, wrinkly smile, "I'm fine, Roy," and once again, they resumed their dance.

They danced the last lines of the song in slow, even strides and for a moment, just before the song ended, they felt young again.

Their souls cried out with the fire in their hearts and they drew back to smile at each-other, seeing the ghost's of their younger selves smiling back at them.

They broke away to bask in the afterglow of the dance and the slowing of their heartbeats, the weakening of their muscles and Roy extended his hand to his wife again, but not for a dance.

His eyes glistened with tears, "May I have this last dance?" he smiled and Riza felt tears of her own prickling at the corners of her eyes.

With a shaky nod, she took his hand, fragile and yet so strong and secure in her own, "Yes," her answer was a weak whisper as she forced her weak legs to carry her forward.

They ignored the panicked shouts and looks from the doctors, they ignored the desperate cries for help from their friends, they ignored the slowing of their pulse and their fading consciences as their bodies painlessly hit the floor.

But they didn't ignore the feeling of completion as images of their past drifted through their last conscious thoughts as they smiled and laughed and enjoyed their last dance together.

Their last dance among the living.

But their first dance among the dead.

 **Thank you all for reading! :) Reviews are kindly appreciated!**


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